


Blood Soaked Rebellion

by VioKun



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioKun/pseuds/VioKun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lowbloods have been oppressed for generations. Rebellions of all sorts have started, crushed, and repeated. Even still, Karkat Vantas, after a violent attack on his people, begins to form one himself. Not even he could foretell that there would be this much blood on his hands. And how in vain they all might be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Soaked Rebellion

        You can hear their war drums before you see their march. They move in steady. So assured that their course of action will benefit society in the long run. That they are the bringers of the new age. So their beat is steady. Coming in swings of six. Every twelfth is held in her honor. Loud. Ear shattering. Separating the high from the low.  But it does nothing to measure up to the screams.

     With fear, there is panic. The trolls around you move in a blur. Collecting their things, saying their goodbyes, and running for the safety of the escape line. Only the old and the weak will be left behind. A routine that these lowbloods have grown so used to that none will bat an eye.

Tonight you will not fight back. You will not stand out. No, you’ll be nothing more than another target for their guns, their mind control, and their magic. Their march doesn’t stop, and neither do you.

     Aradia is by your side before you can even call her to it. She’s ready. Packed. And ready to flee for her third time in less than half a sweep. Your mouth is too dry to speak to her, but you can walk. And you do so quickly. Weaving in and out between trolls anywhere from yellow bloods and under. The rejects. No one yells at you, or even gives you a second thought. They all are like you. Wanting to survive.

     The commanders of the lowbloods stay on the outskirts. They’re trying their best. Catching anyone who falls behind, ushering the crowds to follow their specific route, or warning them to the enemy’s progress, but there is only so much they can do. Not everyone here is meant to live. Because if you were, then why were they always out trying to kill them? In the name of the empress. As if it’s some honor to have the head of a rust blood hanging from your wall. You aren’t hatched equal.

You want to be one of the strong. The ones who can take the initiative. Keep control. Keep you all alive. Who can handle the screams of their people, but still move on because they know it’s for the overall good.  That one life doesn’t equivalate hundreds. They fight in the name of someone else, a long forgotten hero. The Summoner. A name far better than any empress will ever possess. One who did not oppress, but liberated.

     You know that the escape wasn’t fast enough. They do to. The attack had happened too early. The lookout was too preoccupied. Just about every excuse in the book could be filed for this one. In reality, you think they’ve started to care less. See less to live for. See less reason to live.

     The air is electrified, hot, and smoking when the first shot is made into the crowd. The shout of orders turns into terrified screams. You’re all going to die. The highbloods have won. They have won and they’re here to capture all of you as trophies. You must break away. You’re all rounded up like woolbeast. Livestock. If you want freedom, you’re going to have to take it yourself.

     You jeer off to your left. Dust hangs in the air, unable to rest in the sheer freight of all those around it. It clogs your lungs, and blurs your vision. But you can see it. Forest of the Six Lakes. Home to midbloods. And your path of current escape. If you can make it there, you can live.

But the shots can kill up to a hundred in one go. An army worth is sure to wipe out the vast population of lowbloods here. But that’s what they’ve planned. To finally put an end to the lower caste. To get rid of all your filth. The death of so many trolls leaves only a few to avoid. The thousands who may have been harboring here fall by the hundreds. From wriggler to elder, no one is free of the chaos. Every second is another hundred lives. Every second could be yours.

     Each breath you suck in burns more than the last. Your desire to survive is beginning to diminish. What is the point of all this anyway? To run and be hurt all the time. Why couldn’t you have been one of the lucky to die? What ever death may hold must be better than this. It has to be. You couldn’t have just been put here to suffer.

Aradia squeezes your hand. And it brings you back to focus. You only have to hold on a little bit longer. The fight is almost over. You’re only a few hundred feet from the trees. Cancel it out. Cancel out the screams. The shooting. The panic. Focus on you and her, and getting the both of you safe. That’s all. Just a few… more… steps.

     The overgrowth of the forest is thick and unrelenting. You’re forced to slow to a jog, and you can hear her sigh of relief as she falls into your new rhythm. Your steps are heavy, exhausted, and burdened.  Your temporary safety will have no time to be basked in. You’ve never been safe and that’s not going to change tonight.

     The forest is made of an assortment of colors. Bright and bold. Wildlife buzzes around you, welcoming your arrival. You both rush, twisting and turning until the gunshots grow distant. The forest eats you, and you are happy to become another one of the thousands that fill its space.

     “Karkat,” she begins, but you shake your head and press a finger to your lips. You’re worried. Worried that tonight will be the night they won’t give up. It’s just a game to them. Who cares if the entire low blood population is wiped out? They’re good for nothing anyway. You must be quiet for now, there are ears everywhere.

     It isn’t until the last echoed scream and zap of the gun have faded away that you speak.

     “We can’t stay here,” you tell her. Your words are obvious, but you’re talking more to yourself than her. You must remember that no matter how safe you may feel, that you are never truly safe. Someone. Something is always watching. Listening. You’re in the grasps of midbloods territory. A caste known for being in everyone’s business.

     “I know,” she says, her curious eyes searching the horizon. This is her element. Exploring the unknown. Luckily you have someone here that excels in that type of thing. It’s strange, you’d imagine someone with such a soft face, long, beautiful black hair, and a smile that could break hearts would want nothing to do with the forest, or the chaos that lies within it.

     “What did you bring with you?’

     “A few maps. Some food and water,” she mumbles, her hands already undoing the strap for the small bag, and peering into the contents. The maps are shoved off to one end, and the food occupies whatever space is left. It’s nothing that will last the two of you more than three days. But it gives you time.

     “Where do these lead to?” Honestly, it could lead to anything. It’s no more sophisticated than a few scribbles and poorly drawn landmarks. At least it looks like you’ve found the first one. A purple looking tree. It looms over you, not sprouting any branches until midway through. Its largest branch points towards Lake Liquidas.

     “Flip it over, names are on the back!”

     “What? Oh.” You flip the curling paper in your hands, and read the bolded print across the back. Another lowblood camp. In a heartbeat you’re in another time, another place. Remembering. “This is for the other village we traded with. The smaller one.”

     “The one where Artina lives?”

     “Yea. Look, there’s this emergency shelter,” you point to a nearby red dot on the map, “we could probably make it there before sunrise if we hurry,” you gesture for her to look, and she nods. Hearing no complaint from her, you roll up the map, and stuff it into your back pocket.

Aradia is beaming with excitement, her eyes shining with hope. You can’t imagine how she’s able to stay so cheerful through all this. It must be a coping method. You flash her a pitiful excuse of a smile, and turn your head towards your first landmark. Liquidas. The large tree branch points west, and you follow the trampled in path that was made by thousands of previous visits.

     “I’ve been through this way a few times to guide some other trolls along their way. I know if can find this big old blue pool of water, uh, Liquidas or something like that, and head past the fallen pink tree, that we’ll be there in no time at all!”

     “”That’s where we’re going.”

     “Really?”

     “Yea, look,” you point to the map, demonstrating how the large purple tree’s branch pointed in the direction of the lake. The directions are scarce, but you’ve been able to extract this much from it. Her eyes dance over the paper, and she raises her eyebrows. She makes a tiny ‘oh’ sound, and the two of you delve deeper into the depths of the forest, in search of one of six lakes that rule this forest.

     “They say this lake is filled with evil itself! The gillcreatures inside of it are big enough to take an entire trolls head off! Not only that, but the water is practically made out of acid. Swimming in it will melt your skin right off. So just… watch out for that!” She stamps the last word with her own Aradia seal of approval, and passes you one of her famous smiles. Great, as if sadistic highbloods weren’t enough, you have to deal with the looming threat of acid water.

     The body of water is a two minute walk away. It’s so large that you can barely see the edge of it. Only a small patch of soil can been seen over the stretch. Luckily for you, the fallen pink tree is only about a fifth of that distance. It’s a dim pink, making it stand out against the rest of the forest. Death stole its vibrancy. Still, it’s well over half your height, and stretches on forever in both directions. The only way past this tree is over it.

     Your nails dig into the crumbling bark, and you pull yourself up as best you can. Your arm burns and you feel splinters beginning to line your body. The pain is numb, but reminds you of its presence every time you move to anything but its liking. Still, you offer your hand to her. Her palms arm soft, a blissful contrast to the sharp and splintery bark. With your boost, she scales the tree in no time, leaving you to work your way across alone.

     The soft bottom of your black shoes makes it hard to get a grip. Every time you believe your foothold is strong enough, it slips down the second you apply pressure. So you try digging your nails into the bark, piercing it, and pulling yourself forward.

     You barely last half an inch on top of the tall trunk before you slip and fall with a loud thud to the other side. Pain shoots up your spine, and no swear that you can fathom exists that can convey your anger properly. Aradia covers her mouth, and you can’t be sure as to whether she’s laughing, or genuinely concerned. For your sake, you’ll settle for the latter.

     “Are you okay?” she asks, her hands scrambling to help you to your feet. You were right, not a hint of laughter. She doesn’t search you, nor does she check out every fraction of your skin to assure that you’re alright, but instead accepts your gruff ‘yes’ without second thought. “Okay, so then we go…” she turns her head, and points to the path. A route that’s been walked thousands of times. “It leads to the other lake, and just beyond that is the west exit!”

     “How long is it going to take?”

     “Well… It only took like thirty minutes the last time I came through here. But I was trying to be like Troll Indiana Jones. I found this really neat tooth, too! I forgot it, though.”

     “What kind of tooth was it?” you try, you can’t say you care too much for the conversation, but if it interests her you should at least try.

     “I don’t know, probably some big huge creature. It was the size of my hand, and sharp enough to make me cut my finger by accident,” she grumbles, fumbling with her index finger. “But not long! So let’s go. Midbloods could be watching us.” She cups her fingers around her eyes like binoculars, and zips off in the direction of the trail. She must be harvesting the energy of those around her. Being that energetic simply can’t be natural.

     You drag yourself behind her, your pace steady. The forest is about a twenty minute walk. It may have been a fifteen minute one if you hadn’t gotten your foot stuck in the hole of a slitherbeast. The throbbing in your ankle won’t let you live down the embarrassment of that one for a while. At least you didn’t have to deal with those who have to dwell within the forest too much. If you had passed any midbloods they didn’t even give you a second glance. They won’t hear you complaining.

      The field before you is barren from old wars. Only the space of midbloods was left untouched. The poor surrounding lowblood villages nothing more than a smear on Alternia’s crust. If not for the distinctive splotches of red, brown, and yellow dotting the area you might not have even know it to be any camp at all.

     Aradia sighs by your side, and she shakes her head. “I don’t mind death, but…” she doesn’t have to finish. You understand. Death is an easy topic to talk about. But to deal with it is a whole other ballpark. The idea of it is interesting, but the reality of it is horrifying.

     Dread settles snugly into the pit of your stomach. It churns, and burdens your current state even more. You’re so close to the emergency shelter that it wouldn’t be totally out of the question for the highbloods to have come through there and killed all of the lowbloods hiding there. Would they have spared them?

     “Come on, Karkat, it’s at least worth a shot! I mean, if everyone died we can just look somewhere else,” she says, her words encouraging, but seemingly empty. The small walk to the emergency shelter proves your dread false. The underground shelter is booming with life. It moves and hums as if the war didn’t rage on above them.

     But the one who peeks from the underground coop is a yellow blood. She’s giving you a nasty frown, and is smooshing her eyebrows together. Her expression telling you to speak.

     “I’m Karkat, and this is Aradia,” you explain, finding that talking to two glaring red and blue eyes from the ground is actually quite strange, “we just escaped from another highblood attack from Camp Hilitian.” Her expression softens, and you feel the discomfort easing itself from your gut. You could make it out of this attack alive.

     “Let me see your blood!” she shouts, her hand on the door, prepared to let it open if you can finish this one simple test. But you can’t. God no, not with your blood. Aradia has already pricked herself, and lets her blood drip freely. You, however, don’t share the same luck in pigment.

     “You too,” the yellow blood calls, pointing at you.

     “He can’t,” Aradia fills in for you, she knows this drill. You’ve entrusted your life to her, and she’s failed to make you regret it, “he gets nauseous really easy when it comes to blood. Here, look at these cheeks,” she pinches your cheek, causing it to flame red. Luckily, under the mask of your skin is damn near impossible to see its mutancy. “He’s a rustblood like me.”

     The girl below looks satisfied, save for the hint of skepticism in her eyes. You don’t care though, because the next thing you hear is her, “move back!” You follow her directions, and she pushes up the hatch to allow you two to enter. Aradia is down first, and you’re quick to follow behind her. The door above you slams shut, and you at least made it this far. You survived tonight.

 


End file.
